Anne
by Celyia
Summary: ON INDEFINITE HOLD- Dawn and Spike deal with life after 'The Gift'
1. Prologue

  
  
  
_**Title:**_ Anne   
_**Author:**_ Celyia ([ladycelyia@aol.com][1])   
_**Genre:**_ Angst   
_**Season:**_ Beginning of Six.   
_**Summary:**_ Dawn and Spike deal with life after "The Gift"   
_**Notes:**_ Watch out for harsh language. :-)   
  
  
**Prologue**   
  
  
They sat there, staring dumbly at the small blonde who lay silently, still as death, upon the couch.   
  
"I can't *do* this," the young girl shook her head vehemently, water filling her eyes as she found her gaze transfixed by the macabre image. Her breath came hard and fast as she suddenly reached for the older man's hand. "Giles, please. Don't make me do this. Please."   
  
"Dawnie... " the red-headed witch reached out and placed a comforting hand upon the girl's quivering shoulder.   
  
"No, don't!" Dawn growled as she backed away from the concerned, sorrowful faces. Her eyes gleamed with hatred as she considered each of the people sitting in the living room in turn. "How can you ask me to do this? You who all claim to love her, to love *me*... how can you ask this? How the fuck *dare you*?"   
  
Tara sighed as she took a step closer to the distraught teenager.   
  
"You know it's not like that, Dawn. We want to keep you safe. We think this is the best way..."   
  
"You *think*?" Dawn's normally soft voice rang throughout the room, its shrill tones tinged with hysteria. "You've all discussed this? And you didn't even bother asking me what I thought about it?"   
  
"Dawn, we *have* to do this. You know we loved her, you know we'll miss her forever," Xander started, his voice choked up from unshed tears. Anya sat quietly to his side, her hand nestled in his for support. "Yeah, this is screwed up. We shouldn't have to do it. We should be able to mourn her in peace without... Dawn, this isn't right. You know it, I know it, we all do. But our concern now is you. Buffy is gone and she's not coming back. No, no. Listen to me. We can't do a damn thing for her anymore, but we can make sure that the sister she loved more than life is protected."   
  
The tears flowed down her face as she slapped her hands over her ears.   
  
"No. I said NO!"   
  
Giles shook his head sadly at the group and motioned for them to leave. Willow stood quietly at the door, watching as her friends filed out.   
  
"Giles?" she mouthed, her eyes red and full of worry.   
  
He just shook his head softly, his mouth lined by pain and regret.   
  
"Dawn, please. Talk to me?" Giles asked softly as the door finally closed.   
  
"You more than anyone else, Giles..." Dawn glared at him, the anger in her eyes nearly tangible. "How can you ask me to do this?"   
  
"Don't you see? Stop focusing on your own pain long enough to know you aren't the only one hurting!" the former librarian growled, his hand touching the side of his head gingerly as he gazed upon the girl's young, pretty face. "We loved her. *I* loved her. Buffy was my entire *world*, Dawn, and now she's gone, I don't have any clue how I'll survive. I'm no happier at this... sacrilege than you, Dawn. But the truth is that sometimes the necessary thing isn't the right one."   
  
"No, this *isn't* right."   
  
Giles nodded once. "I know. It feels as damn wrong as it can be, doesn't it? But it's necessary."   
  
Dawn sighed in resignation as she wiped away the tears. Almost of its own will, her head moved to look at the body lying peacefully on the couch.   
  
"Promise me, Giles. Promise me that the moment you discover another way, this will stop..."   
  
"I promise you, Dawn."   
  
Dawn grimaced and looked utterly disgusted, whether at herself or at the whole situation, it would be hard to say.   
  
"Do it. Do it now. Do it fast. Do it, Giles," the girl said as she closed her eyes in pain. "Do it and get the hell out of here."   
  
The man stood and pulled a small black object out of his breast pocket. Solemnly, he handed it to the young girl who had lost so much lately.   
  
"This... keep it with you. There's only one. You can..."   
  
"...explain it later. Just fucking do it already, will you?"   
  
The older man, his hair nearly completely gray from the last few days' events, frowned but gave Dawn a curt nod of acknowledgment. Revulsion in his soft eyes, he walked slowly to the body on the couch. Quietly, he kneeled and placed a hand on the cold forehead.   
  
"Buffy, forgive us for this. Forgive me," he asked, his voice hardly a whisper as he looked to the sky. Suddenly, he grimaced in pure pain as he his hand twitched.   
  
The former librarian fell onto his haunches as the body convulsed just once. Jerkily, it sat up on the couch, its eyes filled with a sweet light as it gazed from the man to the little girl who stood just beyond.   
  
"Hi, Guiles. Hi, Dawn. I'm Buffy. I'm a vampire slayer," the robot said happily, the painted crimson lips stretched in a huge smile.   
  
Dawn, her heart twisting with loss and horror, dropped her head into her hands, her energy exhausted, as she listened to the lifeless voice of her dead sister echo through the room.   
  
  
  


   [1]: mailto:ladycelyia@aol.com



	2. Chapter One

  
  
  
**Chapter One**   
  
  
"Hey, you know, if you are gonna fucking live here, you may as well clean my room," the girl glared at the robot as she leaned against the peeling, floral wallpaper.   
  
The petite robot cocked her head and smiled happily at the girl.   
  
"Dawn, please do not use that word. It's rude."   
  
"Fuck off."   
  
The light brown eyebrows knitted together, but the smile never left the robot's plastic face.   
  
"Dawn, please do not use that word. It's rude."   
  
"Uckfay offay," Dawn rolled her eyes as she went into the kitchen. The robot, the pink lips curved up into a huge smile, followed the girl in, almost reminciscent of a loving puppy.   
  
"Please restate your comment, Dawn. I was unable to understand it."   
  
The girl groaned as she picked a browning apple up from the fruit bowl. With a roll of her eyes, she glared at the robot.   
  
"Just clean all the rooms, okay? Make beds. Wash windows. If you are gonna live here, you can at least make yourself useful."   
  
"Yes, Dawn. I live here. This is my home," the robot smiled, her hazel eyes seemingly to almost look proudly at her human charge.   
  
The girl sighed and shook her head.   
  
"Um. Doh? You are so stupid. You don't even talk like her."   
  
"Talk like whom, Dawn?" the robot smiled blankly, a lower lip extending as she considered the young girl she had been programmed to love like a sister.   
  
"Buffy."   
  
The robot cocked her blonde head faintly as she reached a hand out towards the girl.   
  
"I am Buffy."   
  
"No. Don't *say* that," Dawn spit out in disgust as her eyes roamed over the figure. "You are *not* Buffy."   
  
"I am Buffy. I am a vampire slayer."   
  
The girl shook her head quickly, unable to look at the creature any more. Her hands trembled as she ran her fingers through her hair, unable to bear hearing that voice say those words.   
  
"Anne," Dawn said suddenly as she felt the tremours resound throughout her body. "Not Buffy. You are Anne."   
  
"Anne is my middle name," the robot stated happily.   
  
Dawn pushed the rebellious tears from her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah. Anne. Please? Just call yourself Anne?"   
  
The robot smiled happily as she took a step closer to the teenager.   
  
"Yes, Dawn. I am Buffy but I am Anne."   
  
The girl shook her head wildly as she stepped out of the robot's reach. "No. It's just Anne."   
  
Anne the robot, almost seemed to frown at the girl's insistence, but eventually, the smile came back as the desire to please Dawn overruled everything else. Slowly, the creature nodded as her crimson lips parted to speak.   
  
"Yes. I am Anne."   
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
"Anne? Where are you?" Dawn called as she stepped into the house, her arms barely able to support the overflowing bag of groceries that she carried.   
  
The robot had been there for several days, washing and cleaning and smiling at every opportunity. Dawn had thought the intense pain of seeing her dead sister's face and hearing her voice would at least fade with time, but every night when Anne would wake her from her nightmares and every morning when the robot would make her breakfast and wish her a good day, the hurt would stab through her body and soul with a paralyzing vengeance.   
  
Not even a week, Dawn thought as she looked around the room. Just a week ago, her sister had stood in this very room, pale and skinny from months of stress and worry. Dark shadows had been smudged beneath those limpid hazel eyes, each hollow a testament to the love she felt for her sister and her friends. All of this, just a week ago.   
  
"And here I've replaced her," the teenager whispered in disgust as she threw the bag upon the kitchen counter.   
  
"Anne!" she called out impatiently, only to frown as she heard the hurried footsteps as they rushed down the stairs.   
  
"Dawn," the robot smiled brightly as she came into the room, her golden hair matted and as disgustingly dusty as her clothing.   
  
"Where have you been? I've been calling you," Dawn complained, her hands shaking slightly as she tried not to look at the creature.   
  
That was always the hard part, she reflected. Every single time the robot stepped into the room, Dawn thought her heart would break because each time, if only for a second, she'd wonder if Buffy had come back... if perhaps everything was a big, giant mistake and her older sister really wasn't dead. The pain of it, Dawn thought as she touched the robot on the shoulder for the first time since they had awoken her from her electronic slumber, was too much to take.   
  
"I cleaned the attic... Dawn?" Anne asked quietly, her face seeming to light up with the contact as the rule to never touch the young girl had been firmly embedded in her head during the last few days.   
  
"I've got a surprise for you, Anne. I hope you like it."   
  
The robot beamed as the dirty head nodded enthusiastically. "I love it. I love you, Dawn."   
  
The girl closed her eyes and shuddered, unable to stop the tears from welling up as she heard the words which would never come from her true sister again.   
  
"I...I am glad," Dawn said hesitantly, trying to retain control as she thrust a small box into Anne's white hands.   
  
The robot smiled vacuously as she lifted the box up.   
  
"It's beautiful. Thank you, Dawn," Anne breathed in excitement as she cradled the box close to her heart.   
  
"No, no," the teenager nearly smiled as she looked at the creature. "It's not that kind of surprise. It's time you got your own look, Anne... your own identity. We are going to colour your hair brown."   
  
Dawn wrinkled her nose in confusion as she watched the robot's smile seem to fade for a second as a slender finger curled itself in the loose, blonde mass.   
  
"We'll cut it, too," Dawn hurried on, a part of her heart falling as she wondered if this was really such a good idea after all. It is, she told herself firmly as she looked at the disturbing visage. This can't go on. "You are going to look so beautiful, Anne!" the girl gushed with false enthusiasm as she clapped her hands together. "I can't wait!"   
  
Anne smiled brilliantly as she looked at the human girl. "I cannot wait!"   
  
Dawn shook her head as the look of happiness on the robot's plasticene face made her feel dirty inside, as if she were about to commit an unspeakable crime. Sighing to herself, she pulled the scissors from a nearby drawer.   
  
"You are going to be beautiful, Anne," Dawn promised truthfully as she slowly lead the robot to the upstairs bathroom. "But you are really going to be Anne now, and no one else."   
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
He sat quietly on the edge of her bed, his hands stroking the long strands of brown affectionately as he watched the young girl sleep. Each night for the last two weeks, he had listened to her frantic screams as she cried out for the sister who would never come home. And each time he did, he felt as though someone reached into his chest and twisted his heart until all that was left in his life was the unbearable pain.   
  
"No, that's not true. I always have you, huh, Nibblet," the vampire whispered as he stroked her forehead. Suddenly, his head perked up as he heard the movement in the hallway beyond the wall. Noiselessly, he fell to the floor and rolled under the girl's bed just as the door creaked open. Light sparkled from out behind the shadow as It came into the room, its soft steps slowing as the creature hovered over the bed. He watched the slender ankles as the figure presumably bent over and placed a kiss upon the girl's forehead, just as it had done once a night, every night, since they had awoken the thing.   
  
"I love you, Dawn," the robot's voice whispered, its tone perfectly measured as it stood straight up. "I will go kill vampires now so you will be safe. Do not have bad dreams."   
  
As quickly as it had come, the robot left, closing the door quietly behind it.   
  
Spike sighed as he raised himself back up and regained his seat upon the bed, his undead heart churning in disgust as the creature's footfalls slowly faded. He could barely force himself to look at it and the memory of what it had been to him before She left, made the revulsion mutate and grow until self-hate surged through every pore of his being.   
  
He couldn't bear to look at the eyes, so much like Hers, but hollow and gross in their emptiness. At least the long golden hair had been cut and dyed, until all that remained was a short, innocuous brown pageboy which swung over those thin shoulders. In all honesty, it didn't take away the pain of seeing the abhorration, but at least, he stopped wondering if She had come back each time he accidentally caught view of her.   
  
"Don't," the girl whispered in her sleep as her head thrashed suddenly from side to side. "Buffy. Don't."   
  
"Shh, Nibblet," he murmured softly into her ear. "Dream about pretty things, flowers and unicorns and all that rot. Dream about the good stuff."   
  
The girl grimaced, the tears already streaking from her closed eyes.   
  
"Buffy, I said NO! It should have been me! It needs to be me!" she screamed as she shot up in the bed, completely oblivious to vampire who sat next to her, his pale hands shaking as he stroked her back comfortingly.   
  
"Dawn, listen to me. Everything is okay. Everything is fine," Spike choked, his throat seemingly unable to clear itself.   
  
"Buffy," the girl whispered as she slowly reclined back onto the bed, the tears dripping down her chin and down her neck. "Oh, god. Buffy."   
  
He lowered his head into his hands as he willed for strength to return, his entire body shaking with repressed emotion. Inhaling unnecessarily but deeply, the vampire reluctantly opened his eyes to look at the girl lying before him, damp with her own tears. His hand moved to his back pocket, only to extract an old lace handkerchief, carefully folded and yellowed with advanced age. He closed his eyes as he brought the handkerchief to his nose and inhaled the faint, lilac scent until the aroma filled his long-dead lungs with its soft odour. He smiled slightly as images of his mother flashed through his head, each memory more dear than the next. In a hundred years, Spike thought as he lovingly mopped up the young girl's tears with the old lace, I will be able to remember Her like that, too.   
  
His lips twisted into a wry smile as he realised his thoughts for the lies they were.   
  
  
  



	3. Chapter Two

  
  
_Note:_ Originally, this story was supposed to end with this chapter, but the wonderful response I've received so far made me decide to put a little more effort into this. It will still be a short story, but I do hope you like what's coming up. :-)    
  
  
** Chapter Two**   
  
  
Giles sat alone in his flat, his fingers dully tracing the chipped rim of the empty gin bottle.   
  
"Four weeks," he mumbled, his tone slow and somewhat slurred as he pushed the glass bottle to the floor. The former librarian smiled weakly as it shattered into a million pieces at his shoeless feet. "Four bloody weeks..."   
  
The pain hadn't dimmed in the least, he thought angrily as he reached under the shelf to grab reserve bottle hidden behind several books.   
  
"Wan' my soddin' money back," he grumbled as he leaned his tired head back against the scratchy upholstery of the lounge sofa. "Not supposed to 'urt like this. She wasn't my dah'ter, wasn't a'tall. Bloody Council had the right idea of it all along. Don' love 'er. Just watch 'er. Don' love 'er. Can't love 'er."   
  
His face twisted into a grimace as he willed his eyes not to overflow with the tears he could already feel forming.   
  
"Not like Jenny at'tall... Thought it would be. Not at'tall, though. Hurts more. Don' know why. You weren't my bleedin' dah'ter, Buffy. You were jus' my Slayer. Jus' that. Don' love you. Don' miss you. Glad you're dead," Rupert Giles spit out, his voice rough and hoarse as he looked to the sky.   
  
"Dead! Dead!" He repeated slowly, almost singing the words out as the damnable tears leaked from his eyes. "No more worryin' now. You're gone. Dead. Dead. Find sum'un else to be Slayer. Fin' sum'un else to watch their baby girl die. Don' love you. Can' love you."   
  
He closed his eyes as his soft sobbing crescendoed until all he could hear in his ears were her fiercely spoken last real words to him.   
  
"Wish you killed me, lil' Buffy ... never to come 'ome again Buffy," Giles muttered as his hand holding the bottle fell listlessly to the floor. "My dah'ter is dead. Don' think I can live."   
  
  
  
***   
  
  
  
She wasn't quite sure when or why precisely it happened, but hope was as dead as her body.   
  
Buffy Anne Summers stood silently by as she watched her little sister toss yet another perfectly good orange into the trash.   
  
"Score! Six points for the Dawnster!" the girl giggled, her hands high in the air as she posed ridiculously for her audience.   
  
"Dawn, we can't afford to waste stuff because *you* don't like the way it looks. Go on. Take it out!" Buffy exclaimed impatiently, her arms folded across her chest as she glared at her sister sternly.   
  
Or, at least, that's what she meant to do.   
  
"Dawn, please don't waste food," Buffy heard her flat voice ask quietly, every syllable nonthreatening as she felt her awkward body lean over and pick the orange out of the trashcan.   
  
"Oh, Anne! That's disgusting! You can't go around eating stuff that's in trashcans. Jesus Christ!"   
  
Buffy felt her plastic lips pull up at the corners until her head was nodding in agreement.   
  
"Yes. I can't go around eating stuff that's in trashcans," she repeated even as she fought with the Programming to retain her grip on the orange. But once again, it overruled her wishes and she succumbed to those of her little sister.   
  
"What you making for dinner tonight?" Dawn asked as she extended her hand to reach for another orange.   
  
Directive 3, Buffy thought suddenly as she picked up the fruit bowl before her sister could waste another orange, keep house clean.   
  
Carefully, she placed the bowl on the wooden island as she threw a triumphant smile at her sister, her spirits buoyed by the successful manipulation of the Programming. It didn't happen often, but when it did it was a definite cause for celebration.   
  
Unfortunately, Buffy reflected as she watched her sister roll her eyes, her triumphant smiles looked exactly the same as every other one to curve her lips.   
  
"We are having spaghetti and steamed brussel sprouts," she responded as her head automatically turned to the pot simmering quietly on the stove.   
  
"Aw. We had that last week..."   
  
Buffy felt her lips pull into a frown as the pressure in her head began to increase.   
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered quickly, waiting for the pressure to mutate into that terrible mind-dulling pain she was getting used to. Wincing internally, Buffy steeled herself for the onslaught. "I will do better next time."   
  
Dawn shrugged as she stood up. "Not a big deal, Anne. It's cool..."   
  
Buffy smiled in relief as the pain allevated with those few words, her Programming allowing (and in fact forcing her) to show her gratitude.   
  
"Can we go out for ice cream for dessert?" she asked hopefully, an idea forming in her robotic head as she imagined the scenario. Maybe if she could order a lemon and pistacchio cone like she had on a dare no more than six months ago, her sister would realise what happened. Then Dawn would tell Giles and the Scoobies. And then they'd find a way to save her from this hellish prison of circuits and wires in which she found her soul trapped.   
  
"Naaaah," the girl snorted as she threw herself down at the kitchen table. "No offense, Anne, but if I'm gonna go out, I'll do it with a real person. If you want, you can pick up some ice cream the next time you go shopping, though."   
  
I AM real, dammit! the Slayer screamed inside even as the plastic body she inhabited nodded and smiled contentedly.   
  
"Thank you, Dawn."   
  
  
  



	4. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The restless vampire exhaled a sharp breath of impatient air as he turned the TV off, as even the intricately drawn world of Passions held no real interest nowadays. "Bloody yuppie pounces," he grumbled as he tossed the remote to the coffee table, his left foot tapping a continuous, chaotic rhythm. "What kind of bleedin' poofter would write about a bloody doll who's alive? Daft nancies. Get a soddin' day job!"

Grimacing in distaste as the none too distant memory of It teased the forefront of his brain, Spike pushed himself up out of the tattered LayZBoy. With the energy of a caged tiger, he stalked across the mausoleum edgily, every movement only seeming to increase his impatience to get outside.

"Won't even be home yet," Spike mumbled as continued pacing back and forth. "And it's daylight, you git. Bloody brilliant plan. Go get crispy and let's see then who will protect the Nibblet. Bloody brilliant plan, Spike."

With a growl of impatience, the vampire shrugged off his black T-shirt and flung it carelessly to the ground. His arms, shockingly pale but well muscled, lifted up the iron cover which cordoned off the entrance to the old catacombs below.

Bypassing the wooden ladder that pushed up against the lip of the opening, the blond vampire leapt to the bottom, smiling strangely as he took a perverse delight in the pain of the sudden impact.

He crouched there, his head turning slowly about as he looked for any signs of intruders. Satisfied with his cursory scan, he leapt for the punching bag that hung rather precariously from the ceiling. His once smooth hands, now callused with a myriad of crisscrossing scars, clenched into tight fists as they struck the bag rapidly.

At least he hadn't run into It today, he thought angrily as he roundhoused the punching bag so hard that the chains almost seemed as if they were about to snap. 

Spike couldn't understand how seeing that pretty face, trapped under the mop of dull brown hair, could hurt him so badly. Intellectually, he had expected that seeing Her face again would have assisted him in dealing with the loss, but it never seemed to work that way. When they had first brought It back and called It by Her name, Spike had been the last one to find out. Seeing It standing there, hovering about Dawn in a manner enough like Her's to show just how much like Her It wasn't, had sickened him until he was forced to leave the Nibblet early in order to vomit in private. That had been the first time in over a hundred years since he had such a mortal reaction, but unfortunately, it hadn't been the last.

The worst thing, he thought as he ignored the knuckles that bled freely from the intensity of the punches, is seeing It. He grit his teeth as his mind replayed the feeling of It's arms around him, kissing him, touching him.

"What kind of git are you?" he wondered aloud as he leaned against the cool stone of the wall as he watched the bag swing back and forth. "Fucking deserve it, you do. Serves you right. Just fucking sorry that Bitesize has to live with your mistakes, too."

No, that truly had been the worst part of it, he admitted silently as he slowly stretched out his cramping arms, the beads of sweat pouring off his body only to hit the dirt of the floor below. His pain, as gut-twisting and disabling as it may be, was something he needed. He failed Her once, but Spike swore to a god that he had long denied, it would not happen again. The pain reminded him of this. But the Nibblet? she just didn't need it. It was hard enough watching Dawn as she was forced to interact everyday with It, watching the way she cringed whenever It spoke, or even worse, how that spark of hope would dance in those brown eyes for just a fleeting moment until the horror hit as she remembered who exactly It wasn't. 

He was living in hell, Spike decided as he slammed his fists against the stone wall. He had murdered the woman he loved by his own incompetence and sentenced the one person he had left to a life of pain and continual torture. How more fucked up could things get?

***

Buffy stood silently by, a huge smile plastered on her plastic face, as she watched them eat. 

It was hard to remember when things were different, Buffy reluctantly admitted as she looked down at the hands set primly in her lap. She couldn't even twiddle her own freaking thumbs, she thought helplessly even as her damn mouth smiled blankly at the guests.

Anne.

Some days it was easy to forget that she had ever been Buffy Summers. Answering to "Anne" came so naturally now, almost as if this had been the way things had always been. A couple times, as she sat in bed at night just processing the day in her head over and over again, her rebellious mind had wondered if maybe things really weren't just in her head after all. Delusions of a psycho bot, her consciousness giggled somewhat hysterically to herself even as her hazel eyes stared blankly at the wall. HAL the Vampire Slayer, maybe? No, she told herself firmly as she passed the bowl of buttered peas to Xander's waiting hands, that night still haunted her with a vengeance until she remembered every colour and nuance of the night her body died, even if she didn't understand it.

It had been three months since It happened: three months since she had been sentenced to this living solitary confinement. Perhaps the worst part of it all was watching her friends and sister live and breathe on while being unable to do or say a damn thing about it. Their precious lives seemed so far away now especially since it she was condemned to watch but never participate. How could she? Most of them even now only dealt with her when they had to.

Like now, Buffy thought sadly as she watched them talk energetically around the table, each one ignoring her presence as if she never existed.

The Programming allowed her to ask questions, as long as they followed certain guidelines. But Giles and Xander would never answer, and the others? they would just look at her as if she had just sprouted a pair of shiny, white fangs as they gave her as short of a reply as possible.

So Buffy stopped asking the questions and they all stopped trying to remember she was there even as she sat right next to them.

"So," Willow started, her fork paused in midair as she looked toward Dawn, "you want anything special for your birthday?"

"A p-party, maybe?" Tara chimed in, her expressive eyes nervous as they glanced at her lover.

"No. It's cool," Dawn replied as she rearranged the cloth napkin on her lap. "Just thought I'd stay home and watch movies with Anne or something…"

Buffy didn't miss that sudden look of alarm that flashed between her friends.

"I know that you probably don't want to do anything m-much," the shy blonde nodded slowly even as she lowered her fork to the plate. "But we were thinking… Willow and me, anyway… that maybe you'd want to get out of this house for a night. You know, go to the Bronze and maybe sleep over at our place. We can… well, m-maybe leave … um… Anne here. Maybe even turn her off. Give her circuits and s-stuff a break."

"Why?" Dawn asked suddenly, a frown coming to her pretty lips. "Is she going to wear out or something?"

Willow shook her head quickly as she shot a glance at Tara. "No, no. Just thought maybe that she'd like a break, Dawnie. Nothing big, you know? I mean, we could… well, you know… walk on the wild side…"

"What? You mean like order a Shirley Temple with one of those cute little umbrellas?" Dawn interrupted, her brown eyes shining with humour.

"You know it, baby," Willow grinned. "You know, turning 15 doesn't happen every day. Gotta make it an occasion to remember, right?"

"Well, maybe…"

"Oh," Tara broke in, a small smile curving her lips, "no maybes about it. I mean, really. Does watching old, dusty movies really compare to having an umbrella in your drink?"

"You've got a point there," the teenager responded, her face almost seeming to glow with something akin to happiness.

It was almost like being punched in the gut, Buffy thought as she watched her friends coerce her little sister into leaving her behind. It shouldn't hurt so much, she thought as she remained silent, knowing that her heart couldn't handle hearing her distinctive but empty voice echo stupidly in the dining room.

But dammit, she cursed as she sat there quietly, it was her sister's first birthday since all the bad things started happening. Hell, it was her sister's first real birthday as a human. It may not have been much, but she _wanted_ that dumb movie party more than anything.

It really was pitiful, Buffy sighed internally as she halfheartedly listened to the girls speak energetically about their new plans for next Tuesday. 

She should be absolutely delighted to know her friends were trying so hard to take care of her sister, Buffy acknowledged as she watched them all burst into a fit of the giggles. But didn't make the burning pain of rejection any less, she admitted as the loneliness engulfed her very soul.


End file.
